


That's Fate, Right?

by Grigiocuore



Category: Galavant (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Protective!Galavant, Richard is an Adorable Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3513575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grigiocuore/pseuds/Grigiocuore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You came to fix my thermostat while I wasn’t home and I walked in on you and you scared the shit of out of me and I hit you with a broom." - From a Tumblr prompt from dontaimtomisbehave, Richavant Modern!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's Fate, Right?

**That’s Fate, Right?**

Galavant, of the Galavant Inc., was a serious professional. He was dedicated, skilled, and was enamored with his job and even more with the fact he was so good at it. He liked repairing thermostats, whatever reproachful face his father could give from over his horn-framed very Harvardian glasses: it was something necessary, easy to fix and see, and that would pour over him authentic waves of gratitude, the simple, strong kind that didn't require anything else. When the thing started humming again and the poor soul realized they weren't going to freeze to death, well, he could almost pretend to be a knight. To be needed, he himself, even just for a night, even just for an hour, and there was nothing, nothing else in the whole universe that would ever make Galavant of the Galavant Inc. happier. But however he was still a human being, and finding out at nine in the evening to have still a call, _marked with three “urgent”s, moreover_ , was positively killing his mood. Discovering the rich idiot hadn't even waited there for him didn't improve it either. Wonderful Saturday. Sid would be mad. They had had plans. It was Pizza night, they had the new Mortal Kombat. 

Boy that was sad. 

Gal knelt again, balancing the flashlight between ear and shoulder and rummaging in the thermostat guts. The rich idiot had somehow managed to blow it away, apparently after pulling it at full power. No surprise the whole villa was turning in a fancy, neo-gothic freezer. And it had apparently made the electrics snap as well, so it was a _gloomy_ fancy freezer. 

Oh joy. There our hero, deep in the dark dungeons, alone against shadows. My My. Gal chuckled, thrusting an arm deeper in the circuits, and reached out for his spanner. 

And then several things happened together. 

He heard a sharp intake of breath, just behind his back. Gal turned. He had time to confusingly glimpse a mop of grey and blue rushing to him, a pair of frenzied eyes, and then _something_ slammed in his head. Gal lost balance more from astonishment than from the actual blow. He crumpled on the floor, suddenly kissing the spotless parquet. 

Bare feet filled his line of sight. 

-Don’t try a thing, you rascal. Don’t try a single thing, or you’ll not see another day!- 

The thing dropped again in a storm of rough but fierce thumps and Gal yelped, backing away, desperately recalling Judo lessons. A innocent vase crashed on the floor. He had had just two sessions. Before he could start to curse, the blows stopped for a fleeing moment. 

Gal laid on the floor, panting. He propped himself on his elbows. Looked up. Said the first and most logical thing he could think of. 

-A broom? You hit me with a _broom_?- 

\- Well, yeah. And I have no fear to use it again, beware.- 

_Beware?_ Gal blinked harder, and focused for the first time on his attacker. The wacko was a man, but actually he could see just the bits springing from an absurdly fluffy blue comforter. Blue eyes fried him over the long, cold-reddened nose. 

Gal gave a whine. Oh no. He had ended up with Richard Kingson. Richard Kingson, most spoiled bachelor of several states around, CEO of the dashing ruthless King Corporation, incarnation of WASPism. Prodigy of Financial world. Worldwide certified weenie. 

_I can’t make it._

\- I'm not _trying_ anything.- The broom rose again. Gal’s voice squeaked. –And why in the holy Hell were you lurking there in the dark?- 

-I wasn’t _lurking_.- 

-Why didn't you answer the doorbell?- 

-Because I was having _tea_.- 

-This is not a _reason_.- Gal stopped crawling back on the floor. Lifted pleading hands. 

–Listen, I’m not doing anything, really. I’m the technician.- 

-The technician?- 

-Yeah. For the thermostat.- 

The eyes, _very blue, very bright by the way_ , reduced to slits. –And how can I be sure of it?- 

-Because I wascrouched by the _thermostat_ , maybe?- 

-Oh. Oh, well. I suppose it makes sense. And I actually called one of you this afternoon, now that I think about it. Oh.- The guy looked pensively at the broom. 

-Sorry for the inappropriate charge.- 

It was so weird an excuse Gal couldn’t get properly angry. 

-Err, never mind. Could have happen to anyone.- He lied. 

Gal got slowly up, groaning, even if probably the broom ached more than him. The guy seemed properly uncomfortable. For a moment they stood there, in the large shadowy hall, watching precise spots of Persian carpet and sharing the most awkward silence ever. 

-So. Err. How is the thing?- 

-Mh, not well I fear. It has fused. They shouldn't be forced so much.- 

Mr.Kingson gave a indignant tug at the comforter.- I'm sensitive to the cold. Is it a crime?- 

-No, _it isn’t_. But I’ll need to replace it. This is done.- Gal sighed. -And it’d be better to give a check to electrics too.- 

The guy’s wail was so passionate it made Gal turn. There was a hint of panic in Richard - _Kingson’s_ face. The hands around the cover were actually shivering. Oh, Hell. Gal took a step closer without knowing it. 

-How long have you been here? In the dark? Freezing?- 

-Well. I don't know. A bit.- 

-And your henchman?- 

-He’s my _advisor_ , thank you very much.- Richard took a deep breath. -He’s out for the weekend. I’m alone.- 

He stared at his feet like a shy child. Kingson, _Richard_ was in his pjs, one of those fancy silk things you see in Forties movies, and had a mane of peppered hair that reminded Gal a mop of wool. He was nothing like the mag photos, actually. He was shorter, clumsier. He seemed gentle in his own way. He would even be attractive, under all those layers of cotton and padding and oversized pants. What a klutz. Alone. In the cold. He suffered cold. 

Gal’s stomach squeezed. His mouth worked way before he could stop it. 

\- Listen, I was thinking. What about a pizza? In a warm place?- 

Richard licked his lips. -Waffles?- 

A grown man wanting waffles for dinner. For some reasons it made Gal grin. 

-Yeah, why not.- 

-Oh. I think, it could be fine.- He finally looked him in the face. -Thanks.- 

-You, you’re welcome.- 

And then Richard smiled, and happened something strange and beautiful. It happened that Gal suddenly knew that all the things that had ever happened in his life, all the forces in the universe and sun and earth, all the thermostats he had ever repaired had been there just to bring him to this bleak Saturday evening smiling at a stranger in front of a wasted thermostat. His grin got wider. 

-Yeah, you’re welcome.- 


End file.
